Page Six had reported weeks earlier that the infamous plastic surgeon was the inspiration for the wacky character, and Brandt’s publicist Jacquie Trachtenberg said that the Martin Short character “deeply hurt him.” But she also stressed that he was struggling with depression, and that the show “was not the reason he would take his own life.”

In the upcoming September issue of Vanity Fair, writer Lili Anolik writes a touching portrait of Brandt, with whom she was friends. Offering a look at the human behind the somewhat startling façade, Anolik also comments on Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt‘s parody of the doctor.

That the doctor with the peroxided bob and face of a dissipated cherub, the skin as slick and shiny as a glazed doughnut, whom Jacqueline Voorhees (Jane Krakowski) visits for a foot face-lift, is intended to be Fred is beyond question. He’s even called Dr. Brandt. Oh no, excuse me, he’s called Dr. Grant, though he pronounces it Franff, the idea being that he’s so hooked on his own product that he’s paralyzed his facial muscles, lost the ability to enunciate certain words, including his name, ha ha. Fred had heard rumors that there was a show with a character who resembled him, but didn’t realize how unflattering the likeness was until “Page Six” ran a story on March 23, two weeks before he killed himself. That night Fred sent Rob a text: “Did u see page 6 I’m so upset I’m a freak.”

Despite the obvious connection between the fictional character and the real-life person it spoofed, Anolik recognizes the subjectivity of comedy and, like Trachtenberg, does not blame Tina Fey‘s Netflix sitcom as being the reason why Brandt killed himself. She calls that theory “loony,” adding, “If the show did, in fact, push him over the edge, that could only be because he had one foot and four toes curled over it already. But she does make a good point about how the show contributed to Brandt’s already fragile nature when it came to how others responded to him (she mentions his inability to ignore mean Internet comments on a New York Times profile, for example).

A number of Fred’s friends felt that Kimmy Schmidt had crossed the line because Fred wasn’t a public person, which is not entirely true. There was his radio show, and he had appeared, quite voluntarily, on television. Wanted to appear on television more, in fact. Had pitched Randy Barbato and Fenton Bailey, producers of RuPaul’s Drag Race, a reality program in which he would be the main man/event/attraction/course. Yet the attention he sought caused him pain, or at least the by-product of it did. That he persisted in seeking it proves there was a self-destructive streak in his nature. And, besides, even if he had been a completely private person, he would still be fair game because we all are. You can’t possibly try to impose restrictions on comedy. It won’t work. Comedy defies rules and regulation, is anarchic. Nobody and nothing is out of bounds. The only thing you can hope for—and notice I didn’t say ask for—is decency. Fred, unfortunately, didn’t get it.